Maximum Overdrive: The Parody Experiment
by Random Little Writer
Summary: Maximum Overdrive lives somewhat happily with her fellow bird-kid fugitives, each one crazier than the last. When bratty Angel gets captured by the Sharpies, the flock has to save her, even though they don't want to.
1. Welcome To The Nuthouse

**Maximum Overdrive: The Parody Experiment**

Disclaimer: _Maximum Ride belongs to James Patterson. Anything else that you recognize belongs to its respective owner(s)._

* * *

I'm running away from the Sharpies again.

No, not _those _kinds of Sharpies. I'm talking about something totally different. To be honest, though, these Sharpies are about as scary as the Sharpie markers. The only reason I was running from them at all was because they had guns. You're always likely to be taken more seriously when you have a gun, no matter how intimidating you are without one. Iggy and Nudge are good proof of that.

Sheesh, my thoughts ramble more than Fang on caffeine. Let me back up a bit.

Okay, so I'm running, right? I'm running as fast as my legs can carry me across a wasteland full of hills, dirt, trees, and…hills. Despite being genetically enhanced, I can't run to save my life. The freakin' _Gasman _can run faster than me. And I'm not all that careful of a person either—my feet were hitting sticks and roots and broken glass, and I was leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind me. But I guess when you're trying to survive, you don't pay much attention to stuff like that.

I looked over my shoulder cautiously. Remember the Sharpies I was talking about? They appeared in the distance—part man and part ordinary house cat, thanks to genetic experiments. They looked ridiculously cute with their big green eyes and their whiskers and the fur covering their bodies. I giggled. One of them must have heard me, because he pointed his gun at my face. I paled and tried to make my legs go even faster, even though I knew I couldn't do it. Someone who's part cat could probably outrun someone who's part bird.

Just then, a fog appeared in front of me. I disappeared through it, hoping I could somehow lose the Sharpies. But it suddenly cleared after about two minutes, and I was staring over the edge of a cliff. I gulped. The whitecoats back at That Place had talked about cliffs that appear out of nowhere—they'd lost a lot of Sharpies to those cliffs. In fact, I could see a pile of rotting Sharpie skeletons at the bottom, which were being picked at by vultures. Combine that disgusting sight with how long I'd been running, and it became too much for me. I barfed.

A gunshot whizzed past my head, and I looked up, startled, only to see a Nerf dart fly downwards. I looked back and saw a Sharpie hitting another Sharpie upside the head. He was screaming, "You idiot! You should have let _me _shoot!"

"Sorry," said the Sharpie that had been smacked. The other Sharpies pointed their guns at me, knowing I was cornered. The Sharpie that had yelled stole the Nerf gun and threw it at my face. I ran out of its way just in time, and decided it was time to get out of there. I jumped in the air and dove over the edge. The Sharpies watched me, disappointed, but then looked at me in a mixture of anger and horror as I spread my wings and flew away. Ah, it felt good.

Unfortunately, a Sharpie with a non-Nerf gun shot my left wing and I went down.

* * *

"ARGH!"

I sat up in bed, my eyes bugging clear out of my skull. I looked around to make sure there weren't any Sharpies with guns running around. When I saw none, I breathed a sigh of relief. I already live with two people who run around with guns, and I don't think I could take any more.

Speaking of people with guns, Iggy burst in the room with his sniper rifle. It's amazing that he can find his way around the house when he can't see. He doesn't even have _eyes_. "Is there a whitecoat in here?" he asked, staring at me through his empty eye sockets.

"No," I said.

"How about a Sharpie?"

"No."

He crossed his arms. "Jeb, at least?"

"No, just a bad dream."

He groaned and looked over his shoulder. "False alarm, Nudge," he said.

Nudge, armed with her handgun, poked her head inside my room. After doing a thorough search, she shook her head at Iggy and the duo shuffled out. I fell back onto my bed, trying to calm myself down.

That nightmare of mine hasn't always been the same. When I first escaped from That Place with Jeb Batchelder and my crazy "family," my nightmare had always ended with me flying away to safety. Then it decided to freak me out by ending with me getting killed by a Sharpie. One time, it ended when I was rescued by happy, talking animals that became my friends. Another time, Fang and Gazzy randomly showed up and did The Cha Cha Slide. And there was even this one time when the Sharpies became so frustrated after I flew away that they did the Hokey Pokey. I have weird dreams, don't I?

After a couple of unsuccessful tries to make myself fall back to sleep, I got up and headed into the kitchen. Outside, I could see rain, thunder, and lightning. Great.

We lived in a house on top of a mountain. Our house was about a hundred years old, shaped exactly like the letter Z, and falling apart. Ever since Jeb committed suicide, a tile has fallen off our ceiling every day. (Fang thinks it's Jeb's ghost trying to tell us something, but no sane person would listen to that guy.) The good thing about this house is that we're alone and nobody bothers us. A year ago, there used to be three crazy girls who thought Fang and Iggy were hot and stalked them all the time, but Gazzy and his Methane Farts of Doom took care of them. And long before we ever met those girls, there was Jeb, who'd been like a father to us for about ten months before he killed himself. I still remember his suicide note…

_Dear Flock,_

_Kids, I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm going to kill myself. I've had enough of your shenanigans. Living with you guys is like living in a nuthouse. I'm sorry, but you're a bunch of psychos who need therapy. Max, you're the oldest, so you're in charge. Have fun._

_Good luck and good riddance (but mostly good riddance),_

_Jeb_

We all had different feelings about the letter. Gazzy and I were both sad and mad, Fang was sad, and Iggy, Nudge, and Angel were mad. Iggy and Nudge ended up burning all of Jeb's stuff and using the fire to roast marshmallows. I didn't really approve of the idea of burning his things, but I was pretty mad that he'd called us psychos, and everybody had ignored me when I voiced my concerns. Plus, those marshmallows were delicious, which kind of made me rethink my disapproval.

"Hey, Max."

I snapped out of my thoughts and turned around. Gazzy walked in slowly, still half-asleep. He sat in his chair and plopped his head down on the table.

"Hey, Gazzy," I said, patting his messy blond hair. Suddenly, I heard a farting noise and the seat of the chair melted off. Gazzy fell to the floor and promptly went back to sleep. That was why he was called the Gasman. Other than that, though, he was the only normal person in the flock besides me, and he was nothing like his six-year-old sister, Angel, which greatly relieved the rest of us. Gazzy and Angel were the only people in the flock related by blood, and they weren't too happy about it.

I heard a gunshot behind me, and my good ol' paranoia kicked in. I whirled around to find Nudge and Iggy grinning. That was how Nudge said good morning: by shooting something. She rarely ever spoke, and the maximum amount of words she used when she _did _talk was about four or five.

"Hello to you, too, guys," I said dryly. "What did you shoot this time?"

"The couch," Nudge said.

I shrugged. "The couch looks like crap anyway. I don't have any problems with shooting it." I looked at Iggy. "What are you making?"

"Let's just have cereal. I don't feel like cooking," Iggy said. He went to the cupboard and pulled out a box of Cheerios. Nudge got out bowls and spoons. They may be trigger-happy maniacs, but they can be awfully polite when they want to be. I went over to the fridge and got milk when I felt something sharp poke me in the neck.

"Hey, Max! Hey, Max! Can I tell you about this dream I had?"

I closed my eyes. Please go away, please go away…

Fang's overgrown front tooth continued to poke me.

"Max! Max! MAX!"

"_What_, Fang?" I asked, without even looking at him.

"Last night I had a dream that Iggy was wearing a dress and singing opera and eating towels," Fang said. "Should I be worried? Would Iggy ever do that?"

I groaned. "I don't know, Fang. Go ask him."

As soon as I said that, I knew it was a mistake. Fang poked Iggy with his tooth and asked him what he'd asked me. I heard Iggy yell, "No, you idiot! Why would I do something stupid like that?" Gunshots sounded. I sighed. We all had different ways of dealing with Fang's stupidity; Iggy's way was letting the bullets fly.

"Iggy, no shooting Fang in the house!" I yelled. As usual, he didn't listen, and when I emerged from the fridge after hiding in there, I found Iggy and Nudge pointing their guns at Fang, who was cowering under the table. Gazzy was wide awake now, thanks to the commotion.

I smacked my face with my hand. "Oh, for God's sake, you guys. Iggy, Nudge, stop threatening Fang. Gazzy, stay calm. Fang, come get your bleach."

"YAY!" Fang screamed. He accidentally jumped up while he was still under the table, so he hit his head, but he didn't seem fazed by it. He crawled out, stood up, and started jumping up and down like a little kid. I opened a cupboard labeled 'Fang's Special Cupboard' and pulled out a jug of Clorox bleach. Fang unscrewed the cap happily and drank from it. Yeah, it's weird, but he says it tastes like barbecue sauce, so to each his own.

I looked around the room and realized that one person was missing: Angel. The others realized this and, with the exception of Fang, looked at me sympathetically. It was a real chore getting Angel to wake up, and we actually liked it better when she slept in, because it made her a little more tolerable. I gritted my teeth and set off for Angel, who shared the largest bedroom with Fang. She was sound asleep, and she looked adorable, with her blonde curls somehow not messed up and her mouth shut. I gently tapped her on the arm and her bright blue eyes fluttered open, glaring at me.

"I was _sleeping_, Max," she said.

"Yes, I know," I said, trying not to appear angry or annoyed. "It's time for breakfast, sweetie."

Big mistake.

"MY NAME'S NOT SWEETIE!" Angel bellowed. "My name is _Angel_, and it's a pretty name, and you'll use it! Got it? And I'm going to sleep for ten more minutes!"

Stay calm, Max. Stay calm…

"Fine with me," I told her. "Ten more minutes it is."

Like most of the others, I hated, hated, _hated_ Angel. Maybe it was because she was a spoiled brat who whined, cried, and schemed her way to getting what she wanted. Maybe it was because she had absolutely no concern for anyone other than herself. I hope she enjoyed these ten more minutes of sleep, because I was going to cut her precious white wings off and not feel the least bit sorry…

Angel ran to the door and poked her head out. "FANG! MAX IS SAYING MEAN THINGS ABOUT ME IN HER MIND AGAIN!"

I clenched my fist to keep myself from punching her in the head. The thing I hated most about Angel was her mind-reading ability. So if you're going to be thinking mean things about her, you'd better make sure she isn't around. You also have to watch what you say about her around Fang. He's the only one who likes her, which in my opinion just proves how stupid he is.

That was why he ran over quickly and started trying to comfort her the best that he could. "It's okay, Angel!" he said. "You're gonna get ten more minutes of sleep and after you get up again, Max will apologize, and then maybe she'll stop saying stuff about you and—"

"I don't want _ten _more minutes of sleep," Angel said, looking at Fang with big, innocent eyes. "I wanted to sleep for two more hours. But Max said I could only have ten minutes!"

I banged my head against the nearest wall.


	2. All You Sharpies In The Woods

The little beast ended up getting two and a half hours of extra sleep, which was perfectly fine with me. I'm actually glad Fang intervened, because otherwise I might've finally given the Serial Duo permission to shoot her. Trust me, if Fang wasn't around, Angel would probably be dead and Iggy and Nudge would've hit the road without a trace.

Fang and I went back into the kitchen. Our bowls of cereal were ready, and I started to eat. It was awfully quiet for a morning at our place, except for the clinking of spoons against plastic. In fact, you might go so far as to call it peaceful, which is the exact opposite of a normal day in our lives.

Then Fang opened his mouth.

"You shouldn't have thought mean stuff about Angel," he said. "She's just a little kid, you know. She gets mad like everybody else."

I didn't answer. Every time I get mad at Angel, Fang gives me a lecture, and I try to tell him what she's really like, but it never works. The rest of the flock did the talking for me.

"Face it, Fang. Your precious non-sister is a pest," Iggy said, spraying Cheerios everywhere. "And you _know _what happens to pests eventually…"

Nudge made a slashing motion across her throat and smiled.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Fang screamed, jumping up from his chair and waving his arms wildly. He smacked his bowl and sent it flying into the living room, where it made a milk puddle on the carpet. Almost immediately afterwards, a tile fell off the ceiling onto the table, making us all jump.

"SEE? EVEN JEB'S GHOST AGREES WITH ME!" Fang said, pointing at the tile.

"SHUT UP!" Angel yelled from her room.

Nudge whipped out her gun and put a bullet through the ceiling. Everyone stared at her. She calmly stuffed the gun back in her pocket and looked at the rest of us innocently.

"I'm gonna go hide," Gazzy said, getting up and running into the bathroom.

We decided to skip breakfast, and everyone dumped their partially eaten cereal into the trash. After that, we pretty much went about our own business. Fang, Iggy, and Nudge all wanted to watch TV, but Fang didn't want to watch the same show as the Assassin Pair, so Iggy shot him in the foot and literally kicked him out of the living room. I didn't bother to remind him of the rule about shooting things in the house and simply joined Gazzy in the bathroom. He was in the middle of melting the toilet with his farts. Great.

"You gotta be kidding me," I said.

"Melting things calms me down, remember?" he said.

"I know, but the toilet?" I asked. "What are we gonna do, pee in the trees or something?"

Gazzy shrugged. "I always thought it would be cool to pee in a bush. Iggy told me he even peed on a whitecoat when he was little."

A grin threatened to appear on my face. I remembered the peeing incident—when Iggy was still adjusting to getting around without eyes, he walked into a lab, thinking it was a bathroom, and ended up peeing all over a whitecoat. The look on the guy's face was just priceless, but of course Iggy didn't get to see it. "Yeah, that guy was a yellowcoat for a while," I said, and Gazzy laughed. "Still, I don't think you should wreck the toilet. Go melt a tree or the grass or something."

"Max, remember what happened the last time I melted a tree? Fang got all mad and said I was ruining the environment," Gazzy said.

I looked at him, confused. "He did?" You'd think I'd remember something like that, but I guess it slipped my mind, like so many other things. "Well, whatever. Can we get out of here, at least? I think the chaos out there has died down."

He got up and we went into the living room. Iggy and Nudge were calmly watching TV (don't ask how Iggy can even watch TV through his sockets), but I could hear Angel yelling at Fang down the hall. So much for the chaos dying down.

"Now my sleeping time is ruined, and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!" the mini monster was shouting, chasing a crying Fang into the kitchen. They ran in circles around the table, making Gazzy duck back into the bathroom. I didn't blame him.

"I'm sorry, Angel! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up, I promise! I'll never do it again!" Fang wailed.

"YOU SHOULD BE! I THOUGHT YOU WERE NICE, BUT I WAS WRONG!" Angel shrieked.

I covered my ears, then glanced over at Nudge and Iggy. They were still looking at the television and ignoring everything else. You had to admire them, because usually, they'd be pulling out their guns right about now and firing warning shots in Angel's direction.

After a few minutes, Fang was reduced to a sobbing mess in the corner, and Angel was smiling, proud of her work. Gazzy was still in the bathroom, but his sister was about to change all that by banging on the door. "GAZZY! GET OUT! I GOTTA PEE!"

I heard Gazzy's retort from behind the door. "Go away, you freak show."

"YOU JERK! I NEED THE BATHROOM!"

"Go outside, then," he said back.

Even to this day, I kick myself for not taking a picture of what Angel's expression looked like after he suggested that. She looked mortified, as though it were a crime for someone to talk about going to the bathroom outside. "YOU'RE GROSS! I HATE YOU!" She punched the door. "Ow! FANG! It HURTS!"

Fang took his hands away from his face. Tears were still streaming out of his eyes, and he seemed confused, like he didn't even remember where he was. "H-huh? Wha-what did I do?" he stammered, expecting another temper tantrum.

"Gazzy made me punch the door, and it hurts really bad!" Angel said, showing her hand to him. "Can you get me a Band-Aid? Get me a pink one!"

"Is Angel bleeding?" Iggy asked, grinning. "Because if she is, this is a pretty glorious day. Nudge, take pictures, will you?" Nudge nodded happily, giggling to herself in that way of hers that supposedly gives Fang nightmares.

"YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE!" Angel was back to screaming, and for once, she didn't seem to care (or notice) that she'd been insulted. "YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE EYEBALLS! YOU'RE A FREAK! AN EYELESS FREAK!"

Nudge stopped giggling and sat up straight, staring at our youngest member with her typical expressionless gaze. Iggy's mouth became a thin line, and his whole body stiffened. I gulped, and Fang scrunched back into his corner. Even he was aware of what was about to happen.

"What did you say?" Iggy said, dangerously soft. He pulled out his sniper rifle, pointed at Angel, and fired. The bullet just barely grazed Angel's left ear and hit the fridge. She screamed and ran for the front door, throwing it open and racing outside. Another bullet went for her, courtesy of Nudge's gun, hitting the door just as she disappeared.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

Gazzy came out of the bathroom, smiling widely. "That was cool, guys!"

"You didn't see it," Nudge said, frowning.

Like a switch had been flipped, Fang jumped out of his corner and started running around excitedly. "NUDGE SPOKE! NUDGE SPOKE!" he announced. "NUDGE SPOKE! NUDGE SPOKE! NUDGE SPOKE! NUDGE SPOKE!"

Nudge snapped her fingers and Iggy shot Fang in the foot again. He shrieked and started hopping around, holding his hurt foot with one arm and waving the other one around. Eventually he fell on the floor, still shrieking, but in six-second increments.

"So, Max," Iggy said, setting his beloved weapon on the floor. "What did _you_ think?"

"Pretty good," I said. "It set her straight, at least for a while."

"Did you actually shoot her?" Gazzy asked.

"No," Iggy said, sounding disappointed. "We just made it look that way. One of these days, we'll actually shoot her, right, Max?" He glanced at me, clearly hoping I would say yes.

"You know what confuses me?" I said. "Why you and Nudge haven't shot her anyway. Nobody around here listens to me, so it doesn't make sense why you have all these opportunities to shoot her and you don't take them."

There was a silence.

Iggy shrugged. "Well, it would ruin the fun of scaring her, you know?"

"So it sounds good in your head, but when you actually try it, you just can't." I grinned. "You two _do_ have hearts."

"Actually, since we're letting her live, we're still pretty heartless," Iggy pointed out.

Groaning, Fang slowly stood up from his spot on the floor, then looked at the rest of us pleadingly. "Come on, guys! We gotta go after Angel! What you did was just _mean!_" he said. "And now she's outside alone, and—"

"We get it, toothy," Iggy snapped. He snatched up his gun. "If it'll shut you up, I guess we're going."

Outside, it was still raining, and we saw lightning every so often. Once, lightning struck Fang's tooth, making him scream and cling onto me for protection. I tried to shake him off, but he had an iron grip.

"Why are you so worried, Fang?" Gazzy asked. "You're pretty much immortal."

"Yeah. The bleach doesn't kill you, so what could lightning do?" I asked.

"It hit my tooth, guys!" Fang said. "My tooth might fall off. I like my tooth. I don't want it to fall off."

We wandered around for a few more minutes after that. Iggy pointed his gun at Fang just in case he thought about asking if we were there yet. Nudge and I kept our eyes out. The only time we stopped was when Gazzy decided he felt like lighting a tree on fire, ignoring Fang's protests about the environment. (That was another thing about Gazzy—he could control the intensity of his farts.) Finally we found Angel hiding in a patch of wild strawberries.

"Angel, don't run off like that again," I said. "Fang was worried sick about you."

"I wanna pick these strawberries!" she declared. Obviously, my words had gone over her head.

Fang looked up at the sky fearfully. A random clap of thunder sounded, and he jumped. "Angel, I want to go home," he said. "It's scary out here. Plus, we might all die by lightning poisoning!"

For whatever reason, Angel decided to think about his words. She looked at me. "I don't _want _to get lightning poisoning."

I didn't bother to tell her that lightning poisoning didn't exist. "Well, if we go home, you won't get lightning poisoning. Come home with us, okay?"

Angel nodded, not having something to yell for once, and clutched Fang's hand. We headed for home in silence, Nudge and Iggy ready to shoot if anything happened to attack us. I smiled to myself, thinking about how cooperative Angel was being. I might actually have to thank Fang for the 'lightning poisoning' remark when we got back to the house.

All of a sudden, the screaming started.

Fang and Angel were really outdoing themselves this time. Their screams were loud enough to break about ten windows, and they just ran in circles around the rest of us, shrieking and pointing frantically at the sky. Fang was still clinging to me, so I got dragged along with them. Iggy and Nudge pointed their guns upward and Gazzy was staring open-mouthed at something. Out of sheer curiosity, I looked up. Dropping out of the sky were big furry men with whiskers and large, adorable eyes…and guns. Of the Nerf variety.

Sharpies.

Nobody stopped to think, they just acted. Iggy and Nudge promptly began shooting a bunch of Sharpies before they even had time to pelt us with their useless foam darts, and a bunch of Sharpies dropped like bullet-ridden rocks, with blood and fur getting all over the place. Gazzy turned around and assaulted a few more Sharpies with his world-famous methane farts. I laughed a bit at the sight until a Sharpie jumped me from behind and knocked me to the ground. I punched him hard in the mouth, and for a while the two of us rolled around, punching and kicking back and forth. Since Jeb had been too busy dealing with our various eccentricities to really teach us any fighting skills, most of us sucked at fighting, including me. I had to just do my best.

As the Sharpie fired a few Nerf darts into my stomach and I scratched him across the cheek, I watched Fang out of the corner of my eye. He truly had no idea how to fight, and his solution was to dogpile a group of Sharpies that had surrounded him and stab them with his tooth. He grinned obliviously as he shoved his tooth into a Sharpie's ear, making him cry out in excruciating pain.

I was about to resume my fight when he suddenly got knocked off me and fell on his side, groaning. A little stream of blood poured out of his chest. I glanced over and saw Nudge, who quickly shoved her gun into my hands just as a pair of Sharpies grabbed her and threw her roughly into a tree. I shot one of them in the butt, and both of them turned around, hissing dangerously at me. I started shooting at them wildly while Iggy looked my way and gave a brief nod of approval and Nudge gave me a weak thumbs-up from where she lay, nearly unconscious. She watched Iggy hold his own against some more Sharpies before her eyes shut.

Just as I managed to shoot one of the Sharpies in the teeth, I saw Gazzy go flying into a tree near Nudge. All around me, Sharpies were passed out from the effects of his farts. Iggy finally went down after a Nerf dart went into one of his sockets. Fang was subdued by one of the Sharpies he'd been sitting on.

"GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU UGLY CAT PEOPLE!" screamed Angel, who was definitely the worst fighter in the flock. I saw a Sharpie grab her by the hair and drag her along the ground, ignoring her flailing arms and legs and her piercing screeches. I was wondering whether I was supposed to feel great or horrible about that until one of the Sharpies I'd been shooting at stole the gun and smacked me across the face with it, bringing me back to reality. I fell over and tried to get up again, but the Sharpie crushed my stomach with his foot and pointed Nudge's gun in my face. He was grinning like a madman.

"Hey, Max," he said. "Just wanted to let you know that…MY DAD LOVES ME MORE THAN YOU! TAKE THAT!" He stuck out his tongue immaturely.

I stared. "Do I know you?"

He looked surprised for a moment, then glared at me. "Oh, so now you're going to pretend that you don't know me?" he snapped. "Fine, whatever. I'll play along. The last time you saw me, I was three years old. I'm seven now. I was made into a Sharpie. Does that ring a bell?"

I shook my head slowly. "No…"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "You're stupid! It's me, Ari! Ari Batchelder! Jeb's son!"

Suddenly, it was like a light came on in my brain. I remembered Ari. He was always following Jeb around, and Jeb had been so affectionate to him that you'd swear they stepped out of some cutesy family-oriented show on TV. "Ari, you're _seven?_" I asked. "You look like you're about twenty-something."

"It's part of being Sharpified," he said, grinning. "And it helps me get dates with older women."

"Ew," I said.

After that, Ari stepped on my face and everything went black.


	3. Do The Right Thing

Ugh! What was that smell? Jeez, what a way to wake up. I covered my face with my hands and sat up, ignoring my pounding headache. God, that _stench_. It was like…like…

"Well, _finally_," I heard Iggy say. I pulled my hands away from my face and saw Gazzy grinning devilishly. A faint wisp of green smoke trailed from his butt, and instantly I knew what the smell had been.

"That's _disgusting_," I said, cringing.

Gazzy shrugged. "Nothing else worked."

"If I were you, I'd consider myself lucky," Iggy said. "If the fart failed, our next plan was going to be pouring a bucket of Fang's drool on your face."

I flinched and shut any and all gross mental pictures out of my mind, then glanced around and noticed that Nudge and Fang were still unconscious. Nudge was still crumpled up next to the tree she'd been thrown at, and she was stirring a little bit. Aside from the cuts and bruises, she looked like she'd been sleeping all day instead of recovering from being beaten up by cat people. Fang was lying face-first on the ground, letting out muffled snores that still managed to be incredibly loud. A blue bucket was placed next to him, probably filled with drool. Angel was nowhere in sight.

Wait a second—Angel was gone!

Everything came back to me at that moment. Searching for Angel, the Sharpie ambush, Ari, and the sight of the Sharpie that had dragged Angel away. My mixed feelings were also back. Yes, Angel was loud and annoying, but I wasn't heartless enough to sacrifice a six-year-old to those weirdos.

"Hey, guys. Notice anything that's missing?" I asked, hoping the boys would get the message.

"My eyes and Fang's intelligence," Iggy quipped. "But that's not what you're talking about, is it?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, no, I'm talking about a person. Someone's missing from the group."

Gazzy surveyed our surroundings with a confused look, about to say that Fang and Nudge were still with us, but suddenly he looked like all his Christmases had come at once. He knew. "Angel's gone," he said in awe. "Angel's gone! Iggy, she's really _gone!_ Isn't that great? I can't believe I didn't catch that before!"

There was a groan from behind us, and we saw that Nudge had regained consciousness. She picked up her gun, which the Sharpies had been nice enough to leave behind, and looked around. A smile spread across her lips, and she walked over to us, radiating joy. She knew, too.

"Huh. No wonder it's so quiet." Iggy bent down and grabbed his gun. "Time to head home, guys."

"Wait!" I said. "First of all, we have to wake Fang up. Second of all, we're not just going to let the Sharpies hurt Angel. We have to go get her."

Iggy snorted. "Why should we? If we leave now and forget about them, we'll be abandoning the two most irritating people ever to walk the earth. Plus, since the Sharpies have Angel, she'll be whining at them instead of us for a change. I bet she won't even miss us. It's a perfect plan."

Nudge nodded in agreement.

"Well, what if Fang wakes up?" I asked. "He might find his way back to the house."

"He's an idiot!" Iggy hissed. "Have you forgotten that? He can't find his way back unless one of us helps him!"

"Huh? What…? ANGEL!"

We looked over at Fang, who was now awake and had jumped about a foot in the air. He spread his huge dark wings with hot pink streaks on them (courtesy of Angel) and flew off, but he was headed towards our house.

"Hey, Fang!" Iggy yelled, pointing in a random direction. "Angel went _this_ way!"

Less than a minute later, Fang flew back towards us and bashed into a tree. The rest of us laughed as Fang slumped to the ground. Even though he'd been beaten up by Sharpies and trees, Fang still wasn't going to give up.

"Guys, don't just stand there! We gotta go find Angel!" he said.

"Go find her, then," Iggy said. "We can wait."

The meaning of his words were lost on Fang, who stared at nothing in particular with a dull expression on his face, and then it finally clicked. "Hey! You can't do that! We _all _gotta look for her."

"Look for Angel? Are you serious?" Gazzy asked incredulously.

"No, I'm Fang," Fang said. "Unless Serious is my real, actual name! Wait, no, it can't be, 'cause—"

"Guys, guys!" I tried to cut in, but Fang and Gazzy had gotten into a deep discussion about what Gazzy had really meant. Iggy jumped into the conversation, and Nudge stared off into space. She gave me a brief glance, like, _Are you going to deal with this?_ I sighed and made my voice as loud as I could.

"WHO WANTS ICE CREAM?"

"ME!" yelled Fang, who jumped up and flew off again. Iggy, Gazzy, Nudge, and I followed him back to the house and got there just in time to see him run inside, screaming incoherently about ice cream. The thing was, we hadn't had ice cream since Jeb died, not that he would know that. We went in and saw him looking through all the cupboards.

"Hey, Max! Did we put the ice cream in the toilet or something? 'Cause I can't find it!" he said.

"Fang," I began, but he had moved on to the living room, turning over furniture. I gave Iggy a look, and he shot Fang in the back, making him fall over. Before he could get up again, I walked over and tried to soothe him by putting my hand on his arm. "Fang, there is no ice cream. I made that up so I could get you back to the house."

"How come?" he asked, not really caring about the lack of ice cream. A sly grin crossed his lips. "Oh, I get it! You have a crush on Iggy, don't you?"

I gawked at him. "What does getting you back to the house have to do with Iggy?"

He shrugged.

I let the matter drop and pulled him up so he could sit, then faced the rest of the flock. "Guys, here's the situation," I said. "Unfortunately, we have to go save Angel. I know that most of us don't like her, and neither do I, but she's our responsibility."

"Not anymore," Gazzy said, grinning so evilly that he looked like a little Nudge for a second. "Now the Sharpies have to take care of her. And I think Iggy's right, and we should just leave her with them. I mean, you said it, Max. We all don't like her."

"She's just a kid," I said.

"A stupid kid," Gazzy said.

I could feel the patience I had rapidly disappearing. I took a deep breath and tried again. "Well, Gazzy, think about this. How would you feel if we let the Sharpies take you? How would you feel if you were stuck with a bunch of freaky cat hybrids who would probably bring you to whitecoats, let them test you until you died, and then eat your innards afterwards?"

Gazzy frowned. "Uh, that would suck."

I smiled. He got my reasoning. "Exactly. And that's what's going to happen to Angel if we don't save her."

"Wait, did you just say whitecoats?" Iggy asked. "As in scientists? As in scientists from _That Place?_"

"Yeah," I said. "Where else would the Sharpies take her?"

A hush fell over the room. Nudge's eyes were wide, Gazzy's mouth was open, Fang gasped, and Iggy stiffened like he does whenever someone makes fun of him. Out of all of us, he'd probably been treated the worst when we were at That Place. When he was three years old, he was being tested on by a couple of incredibly bored whitecoats, and since they had nothing better to do, they yanked his eyes out and dissected them. They didn't even put him to sleep when they did it. He hates That Place more than the rest of us because of it, and he once said that he wouldn't even make his worst enemy go there. That probably applied to Angel, too.

"I'm going," he said quietly, his grip on the sniper rifle tightening.

Nudge nodded, checking her gun to make sure it had enough bullets.

"I'll go, too," said Gazzy. "I can gas the whitecoats that you guys somehow don't kill."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, everyone was on the same page, and we were going to rescue Angel. You know, I've never told this to anyone in the flock, but sometimes I wished I wasn't the leader. Sure, I'm supposedly the oldest, but it's not easy for a fourteen-year-old kid to give out orders and whatnot, especially when barely anyone listens. Sometimes I wished Jeb were still alive, even though we were pretty much the reason he killed himself, and he wasn't really any better at handling the others than I was, and—

"NO!" Fang screamed, interrupting my thoughts. "I don't want Iggy and Gazzy to come!"

I did a facepalm. I guess I really jinxed myself, didn't I? "Fang, you just said you wanted everyone else to come."

"I meant everyone else except Iggy and Gazzy!" Fang said.

Gazzy looked confused, while Iggy glared at Fang with an intensity he hadn't shown in quite a while. Nudge wasn't showing it, but I could tell she was pretty mad that anyone would think of separating her from her best friend. I stared at Fang with narrowed eyes, resisting the urge to slap him upside the head. "Why don't you want Iggy and Gazzy to come?" I asked.

"'Cause they might hurt Angel," he replied. "Iggy could shoot her with his big, giant gun thing, and Gazzy could accidentally gas her to death."

"They're not going to shoot or gas anyone except for a few whitecoats," I said. "And if you don't want Iggy to go, how come you don't have a problem with Nudge going? She has a gun, too. She's as likely to shoot anyone as Iggy is."

"Yeah, but she's not as scary as Iggy," Fang said, completely forgetting about all the times Nudge shot him as well as the fact that her laughter scared him to death. "Plus, her gun thingy's not as big. She could use it to protect us and stuff."

My jaw dropped as I stared at him. He had just reached a new, frightening level of stupidity.

"Max, you're not going to listen to him, are you?" Gazzy asked, worriedly.

I was suddenly struck with an idea. If the Sharpies had found us in the woods and knew we lived around here, they may very well be able to find our house. I leaned closer to Iggy and Gazzy and whispered, "I've got a job for you. Sharpies come, you take them out. Use anything you can find."

Gazzy thought it over for about two seconds and readily agreed. Iggy was still upset about having to stay home, but he nodded. As long as he got to kill some Sharpies, he was good.

"Ooh, are you telling them a secret?" Fang asked. "Tell me, tell me!"

I ignored that. "Fang, Nudge, you're coming. Ig, Gazzy, remember what I told y—" Speaking of remembering, I just remembered something incredibly important. "Oh, _crap!_"

"What?" Gazzy said.

"I don't even remember where That Place _is!_" I yelled, frustrated that I'd been so stupid. Among the million other things I'd forgotten, I'd forgotten where That Place was located, and I'd forgotten that I'd forgotten it. "I knew it was a bad idea to burn Jeb's stuff! It probably had a map of That Place!"

The full sentence wasn't even out of my mouth before Nudge mysteriously produced a pen and paper and started writing something down. She handed the note to me, and I saw that she'd written down directions to That Place. I should have expected it—she had the best memory in the entire flock.

"Thanks," I said, but Fang snatched the note and shoved it in his pants pocket. I rolled my eyes. "Nudge, you have your gun, right?"

She nodded and tapped her gun, which was bulging out of her jeans pocket.

"All right," I said. "Let's get going."

Fang, Nudge, and I headed out the door, but a shot was fired and Fang shrieked all of a sudden. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Iggy had given him a bullet for the road. His sockets met Nudge's eyes and they laughed, giving each other a high-five in the air. Fang rubbed the injured spot on his much-abused leg and whimpered. Then, just to mess with his head, Nudge fired a bullet into the air, making Fang shriek again.

"Nudge, don't waste your bullets," I scolded.

She grinned at me and pulled a fresh supply of bullets out of another one of her pockets. She wasn't going to run out any time soon.

It was going to be a long flight.


	4. What's Your Name, Little Bird?

"Does everyone remember where we're going?" I asked, raising my voice so that Fang could hear me and absorb my words properly. That didn't work, since he was staring at a dragonfly that was traveling past us. Nudge slapped him across the face.

"Huh?" he said, looking at me. "You say something, Max?"

"Do you remember where we're going?"

He was about to reply when a confused look crossed his face, and pulled the directions to That Place out of his pocket. "Yeah, I remember!" he said, smiling like it was some big accomplishment. Well, for him, it was. Nudge snatched the paper and stuffed it in her other pocket. I wanted to tell her how brave she was, carrying something that had been in Fang's pants, but decided against it.

Okay, I know what you're thinking: What exactly is That Place, and how the heck did it get that name? Well, see, the nightmare I had about the Sharpies is hard to tell apart from our real life, Nerf guns and all. The flock and I were created and brought up (if you could call it that) at That Place, where people called whitecoats put syringes in us and shot us up with bird DNA, I think. I don't really know the whole process, but I just know that someone decided it would be funny to put bird genes in human children. As for the name, I heard a rumor that nobody could think of what to call the facility, so it was referred to as "That Place," and the name stuck. If I remember correctly, there's even a sign leading to it that says something like _That Place __– 2 Miles_.

We were headed into the sun, south-southwest or something like that. The day had gotten surprisingly sunny after the thunderstorm stopped. If we got a nice air current, we could add maybe twenty or thirty miles per hour to our speed. Or was it forty? I was never good at determining that.

"What do we do if we get separated, again?" Fang asked.

"Mstjke," Nudge said absently, not glancing at either of us.

"_WHAT?_" Fang and I shrieked. I punched him before he could tell me I owed him a soda.

"Mstjke. Lake Mstjke," Nudge repeated.

I made an attempt to pronounce it. "Mist-jickey?" She nodded at me. I grinned in a self-satisfied way.

"Is that Asian or Chinese?" Fang wondered. We ignored him.

I thought about how I'd made the Gasman and Iggy stay home, and I was actually jealous of them. They got to stay behind and do nothing while me, Fang, and Nudge were stuck trying to save a snotty little kid who probably wouldn't be all that grateful for the assistance. I started calculating how long it would take to get to That Place and figured it would be about seven hours. The whitecoats could do a lot of damage in seven hours, and Angel could do a lot of whining. I was a slower flier than the others, but sometimes I would make myself fly even slower so that it would take longer for us to achieve our goal, thus making sure we didn't have to see Angel's face for a while, _and _making sure the whitecoats tormented her a little bit.

Aw, man! I knew this would happen! Nudge and Iggy finally corrupted me.

"Hey, guys," Fang said suddenly, putting my worries on hold for a moment. "You know what I just remembered? Remember way back before Iggy and you, Nudge, burned Jeb's stuff? I think I saw some important stuff in his old files!"

Nudge snorted. I was interested, mostly because Fang's long-term memory was finally working. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Like, I saw my real name!" he said excitedly. "And everybody else's names! I think my name was Jim or Bob or something, and Nudge, your name was Imo – I mean Ino – uh…" He stared into space for ten minutes, then shook his head and came back to his senses. "Something I can't pronounce. I think it's Canadianese. And I think Iggy's name was…Melvin, I think? And I don't remember Gazzy and Angel's names, but guess what, Max? Your name wasn't different at all! It was weird."

"My name wasn't different," I repeated, uncomprehending. I had no reason to believe any of the stuff he was saying, but inquiring minds want to know. "Not different in what way?"

"Well, you know how I said we all had real names?" he said. "You didn't have a real name, 'cause the papers still called you Maximus Overdive, but it had another name that I can't pronounce on the end of it." His eyes lit up then, like he had just learned something groundbreaking. "Oh, and also, I saw places! Like, some place in Arizona and some other place in Virginia—"

I held up a hand. "Fang, calm down. Those names and places probably have nothing to do with us. Maybe they're just Jeb's relatives or whatever. By the way, my name is _Maximum Overdrive_. Say it with me. Maximum."

"Maximum…" Fang repeated.

"Overdrive," I finished.

"Overdrive."

"Maximum Overdrive."

"Maxi-Pad Thunderdome," Fang said, nodding.

"Ugh!" I growled, smacking myself in the forehead. How could he still not know my name after years of knowing me? Wait, don't answer that. "Let's just focus on saving Angel, okay?"

Fang nodded wordlessly, keeping his gaze focused on what was ahead. For about five seconds, anyway.

"Guys, I just realized that I'm real hungry, and—"

Nudge brandished her gun and pointed it directly between his eyes, yawning.

"Uh, I lied," he said quietly.

* * *

Her small body ached, but she didn't really care. Angel thought it was beyond criminal that the whitecoats had shoved her in a medium-sized dog crate. Did they have no respect for her at all? They should have at _least _put her in a jumbo-sized crate. A big one would do if they didn't have jumbo. Did jumbo crates even exist? Well, they would if she had any say in the matter!

"HEY!" she yelled at nobody in particular, grabbing onto the steel bars that kept her away from the outside world. "ONE OF YOU IDIOTS, GET ME A BIGGER CRATE!"

No one answered or made an effort to comply with her wishes. She scrunched up against a corner and crossed her arms over her chest, sulking. Soon, though, she became aware that her brain was picking up on some thoughts coming from someone nearby.

_Hmm, what an interesting new creature. A work of art, almost. Her wings are extraordinary._

Angel glanced through the bars again, this time in the direction of another crate next to her own.

The other crate was bigger, which made her incredibly jealous. Her expressionless, almost bored gaze turned into a glare as she looked at the two boys sharing the crate. One of them looked like a weird fish thing, with scales all over his body and a tail protruding from his backside, as well as gills on his neck. He had wide green eyes that creeped Angel out, but the kid's eyes were nothing compared to the second boy. The other kid looked like an inbred mutant from a horror movie, as he had fourteen toes, sixteen fingers, no neck, no hair, and blue eyes that took up about three-fourths of his head. He reminded Angel of _The Hills Have Eyes_, which she'd tricked Fang into letting her watch not too long ago. She forgot about the freakish kids for a moment and smirked as she remembered her great accomplishment. Unfortunately, the thoughts from the kids kept entering her head.

_I do not think I am very fond of this creature. I know a proud smirk when I see one. She seems self-absorbed, perhaps lost in the memories of how oh-so-wonderful she thinks she has been_, thought the kid with scales.

_I am almost willing to bet that she assumes she is superior to us because she does not have as many physical deformities as us_, thought the kid with too many fingers. _Although I am quite sure that she has mental deficiencies, as that is the case with many people who think they are amazing simply because they look attractive._

Angel glared at them again. She didn't understand what they were thinking, but she still didn't like it. "What are you looking at, freaks?" she snapped, and the boys looked away. She stuck her tongue out at them. They thought they were so cool because they had a big crate and used big words. She'd show them.

A door opened and the sound of footsteps on linoleum filled the room. The two boys glanced through their bars with faint disinterest, but Angel was eager. Maybe someone had finally heard her demand for a bigger crate. A pair of whitecoats stopped in front of her crate and peered down at her with fascination.

"So, when's the big crate comin'?" she asked, but the whitecoats either didn't hear or didn't care that she'd spoken. She glared up at them impatiently, and the look of interest the scientist duo shared was quickly replaced by looks of dread.

"Oh, no," said the first whitecoat, a male. "I can't believe it. They brought back Subject One Million and Seventy-Five." He shook his head in dismay. "The Director isn't going to like this."

"I can tolerate bratty subjects and the Director's mood swings," his female partner said, "as long as I get to run some tests. I've taken way too many sick days."

Angel was ready to explode. How dare they ignore her? How dare they call her by a number instead of her actual name? She was ready to give these two a piece of her mind that was as big as her ego. "MY NAME ISN'T ONE MILLION AND WHATEVER!" she screamed. "IT'S ANGEL!"

The whitecoats exchanged a glance. If Subject One Million and Seventy-Five had been difficult as an infant, there was no telling what she would be like now.

* * *

"Let's throw all of Angel's stuff into the canyon," Iggy said with a grin.

Gazzy was more than happy to oblige, and within mere minutes Angel's room was completely bare, all of her things having been tossed into the canyon. The boys didn't think that was enough, so they flew down to the canyon and set fire to everything, with Gazzy utilizing his fiery farts to their full potential. Iggy brought out marshmallows and the two happily feasted while Angel's belongings burned. When the marshmallows were gone, Iggy and Gazzy performed a badly choreographed tribal dance around the huge flame, loving every minute of it.

"Should we burn Fang's stuff, too?" Gazzy asked.

"Yeah, for good measure," Iggy said.

With that, the boys went back to the house and cleared out Fang's room, then ate more marshmallows and did more dancing as Fang's things became little more than charred rubble. After all was said, done, eaten, danced, and celebrated, Gazzy and Iggy headed back home in high spirits.

At first Iggy had been annoyed that he had to stay home and wouldn't get to kill any whitecoats, but he soon realized that there were plenty of opportunities to get back at Angel. Not only did he and Gazzy burn the contents of her room, but they poured the entire box of Froot Loops into the toilet and flushed them. (Froot Loops had always been Angel's favorite cereal.) While he preferred hanging out with Nudge, he found Gazzy to be a willing, devious, and very helpful partner-in-crime, and enjoyed himself all the same. Plus, the things he could do with his farts were quite astounding, and would probably be useful in the future.

"I'd like to learn how to use a gun," Gazzy said, eyeing Iggy's sniper rifle. "Think you could teach me?"

Iggy shook his head. "Two flying kids with guns is enough, I think. And you've got your farts, remember?"

Gazzy seemed disappointed, but shrugged it off. "Yeah, not to mention Max would kill you."

Suddenly, Iggy froze. He remembered what Max said right before she, Fang, and Nudge had gone. _Sharpies come, you take them out. _Just as suddenly, an evil grin spread across his face. Even if he wasn't able to get his hands on the whitecoats, at least he would be able to kill some Sharpies. His murderous urges would be satisfied in some way.

"Uh, Ig?" Gazzy said worriedly. "I'm not going to be target practice, am I…?"

Iggy snorted. "I wouldn't shoot you. Remember what Max said, right before she left? About Sharpies?"

The Gasman nodded. "If Sharpies come, we kill them."

"Exactly," Iggy said, spooky calm. "Just out of curiosity, do the words 'real, live fart bombs' sound appealing to you?"


	5. Looking For Food In All The Wrong Places

"Maaaaax! Nuuuuudge!" Fang whined, making our names sound about five times as long.

Nudge instinctively drew her gun, but I held up a hand and she put it back, looking disappointed. Call me overly optimistic, but I wanted to see if Fang had something worthwhile to say. "Yeah? What is it?"

"Remember five hours ago, when I said I was hungry, and then the hungry went away?" Fang asked. I nodded. "Well, the hungry came back just now."

As if on cue, my own stomach growled, and I suddenly realized I'd been having serious hunger pains for the last few hours. I clutched my stomach and keeled over in the air, feeling and looking like I needed to throw up. Nudge and Fang flew to my side quickly to see if I was all right. I waved them away. "Don't worry, guys. I'm good," I said weakly, knowing it was far and away the biggest lie I'd ever told.

Nudge shook her head, seeing through my fib. "We need food."

"NUDGE SPOKE!"

_WHACK._

"Owww…" Fang moaned, rubbing his head in the wrong spot.

"Can I see those directions?" I asked. Nudge handed me the paper. According to it, we were above The Cookies 'n Cream Mountains, so named because they looked like giant scoops of ice cream. Thinking about that just made me hungrier. Maybe there was food down there.

"Ski slopes," Nudge said.

"Huh?"

"Ski slopes." She looked at me firmly, clearly expecting me to know something.

"We're going skiing? AWESOME!" Fang yelled, and soon he was off in his own little Fang-world. "But first we need skis! And I don't even know if I know how to ski, but I bet I could learn! Max, do you know how to ski? Nudge, do you? Don't assassins know how to ski? Is it in their training?"

As usual, we ignored him. "Nudge, what are you talking about?"

"Nudge is TALKING?"

"For God's sake, Fang, _shut UP_!"

"Vacation houses," Nudge went on, still being cryptic. "Skiing. Vacation houses. Empty vacation houses_. _Empty and _used._"

Like a light had gone on (or maybe shut off) in my brain, I got it. "The empty, used vacation houses have food!" I said. With a newfound energy, I began to move my wings again and started flying back to earth, ignoring my stomach pains. "Come on, you guys!"

Fang and Nudge followed me, and we circled the edge of The Cookies 'n Cream Mountains, spotting some houses a short distance away. We caught sight of an ugly-looking house that was painted a garish yellow. There were no cars parked in the driveway, no smoke coming out of the chimney, and from what I could see through the windows, nobody running around inside the house. I wasn't surprised, because who would want to live in a house that looked like that? And anyway, it made things easier for us. I tucked in my wings and went to make a landing, followed by Fang and Nudge.

"Whoa! This house is really pretty!" said Fang when our feet were finally on the ground. "You know what? We should call Gazzy and Iggy and tell them we're going to move here…" He stood on the porch and babbled on as Nudge kicked the door off its hinges and she and I entered the cottage. A few minutes later, I ducked outside and pulled him in, making him pause mid-babble. Nudge had already searched through cupboards for food and emerged with cans of soup and ravioli. I went over to another cupboard and pulled out some dusty cans of peaches and put them on the nearest table. Fang took one and used his tooth as a can opener, then poured everything in his mouth.

"Ew," Nudge muttered, watching him while still going through cupboards. She found some cans of soda, everything from Diet Coke to Sierra Mist. After we decided we'd found enough stuff, we dug in.

Half an hour later, our bellies were filled to a satisfying degree and we were sleeping on the floor, all thoughts of Angel gone from our heads.

* * *

Angel hoped that wherever they were, the flock was suffering.

It had been—well, actually, she had no idea how many hours she'd been stuck at That Place, but she was pretty sure she'd been there a long time. Some part of her body was burning—probably her heart or her lungs or some other internal organ—and she couldn't feel her arms, her legs, or even her wings. She could still wiggle her toes, though, which was good. If she could just get away from the whitecoats, maybe she would be able to attack them with her toes somehow. Maybe she would magically develop the ability to do horrifying things with her pinky toe that the scientists would never forget.

Right now, she was even angrier with the flock than she was with her captors. First the stupid whitecoats didn't give her a big crate, and now stupid Max and stupid everyone else was taking a long time to rescue her. In her mind, she pictured an army of giant spiders swallowing the flock whole. It made her giggle evilly, and the whitecoats didn't question it. They preferred not to know what was going on in Subject One Million and Seventy Five's mind.

Part of her was actually glad the flock wasn't at That Place yet, though. She was having a lot of fun annoying the whitecoats. When a whitecoat named Reilly hesitantly approached her with a stick thing, she screamed at him to buy her a strawberry milkshake. His face turned white and he fainted due to the volume of her voice. Angel laughed at how pathetic he was until a female whitecoat named Nathan slapped her in the back of the head with a paddle.

"Do that again and I'll have you terminated," she warned.

Angel didn't care. To her, it was an idle threat, because she knew she was important. Whenever she read a whitecoat's mind, they always thought stuff like, _Can't wait to get my hands on this one. The Director's wanted it for a long time. Hope this thing gets what it deserves._

At least _someone_ thought she should get what she wanted.

"Keep running," snapped Nathan, glaring at her while pulling Reilly up.

Angel stuck her tongue out at the whitecoat and continued running on the same treadmill she'd been on for hours. It was so boring that she wanted to throw mud at it to make it at least look different. A half-hour ago, she'd stolen a red marker and scribbled things like 'Angel wuz heere' and 'Angel izz kewluhr thin yoo' all over the treadmill until a particularly brave whitecoat took the marker away from her. A few other whitecoats had studied the graffiti, marveling at how such a unique creature could lack the ability to spell properly.

Occasionally her feet got caught in the treadmill belt, and when that happened, somebody zapped her. That also happened every time she slowed down. In fact, even when she was going as fast as possible, she got zapped. At least one time, she heard a giggle. She glared at nothing, enraged that these freaks took pleasure from hurting her. When Fang got here, he could poke them all to death with his tooth.

"When am I gonna get food from this joint?" Angel said to the nearest whitecoat. "I'm hungry! And this exercise thingy is stupid!"

"You'll be done soon enough," said the whitecoat in a bored tone of voice. Angel peeked into his mind. _Believe me, kid, I want to get away from you as much as you want to get away from me_, he thought.

She didn't understand why everyone wanted to get away from her. She was adorable and important. _Whatever_, Angel thought. _They're stupid. If they don't want to be by me, that's their problem._

A few moments later, the treadmill stopped. Finally, someone had listened to her demands. She was about to ask for food again when a whitecoat grabbed her forcefully and started pulling off some things that were taped to her skin—electromagnets or something like that. It hurt, and she made her pain known.

"STOP DOING THAT!" Angel shrieked, trying to poke her index finger into the whitecoat's eye. Luckily, he was wearing glasses and the only things he suffered were a few smears in his vision. He pulled off all the electromagnet thingies and set her down. She tried to flap her wings and escape, but her body wasn't working so well, and she ended up falling over weakly. Nearby, a small group of whitecoats had brought Reilly back to consciousness.

"What happened?" he asked, blinking in confusion.

"Its heart rate went up by seventeen-and-a-half percent after six hours," said another whitecoat. "Only in the last twenty seconds did its peak oxygen levels explode."

Angel stared at them the way a dog would stare at a television. Sometimes when these whitecoats talked, they sounded like they'd been reading out of a dictionary. She had no idea what _heart rate_ was, or what _peak oxygen levels _were. Maybe it had something to do with a video game.

"As much as I hate working with Subject One Million and Seventy Five, I can't wait to get a brain sample," said yet another scientist. "Of course, its thoughts probably won't be all that interesting. And that all depends on whether or not it _has _a brain." He chuckled, and the whole gang of whitecoats laughed along with him.

This was too much for Angel. They were talking about her like she wasn't even there! "I'M RIGHT HERE, YOU KNOW!" she yelled. "YOU BETTER BE NICE TO ME!"

"Does it _ever_ shut up?" Reilly asked, almost whining.

"Pretty soon, it won't have a choice," said Nathan, who shot the little girl a warning look. "Reilly, could you get it some water? That might make it more tolerable."

"And make it snappy!" Angel added, crossing her arms and sticking out her bottom lip.

Muttering curses, Reilly stalked off and returned quickly with a cup of water, handing it to Angel. She snatched it greedily and drank the liquid quick, like it would run away if she didn't. When it was gone, she requested more, and poor Reilly was forced to get it again. The cycle continued until a few whitecoats stepped in and told Reilly he should take a break. He accepted this happily and skipped down the hallway shouting, "I'M FREE! I'M FREE!"

Angel was in a better mood after the drink—or, at least, in as good a mood as someone like her could be. "Now, how 'bout some food?" she asked in a surprisingly cordial, even cheery manner. "'Cause I want a cheeseburger and some French fries. Or maybe a prime rib! And lemonade! Anyone got Crystal Light?"

"That's enough for now," a female whitecoat said. "Back to the crate for you."

"But—"

"_Back to the crate,_" the woman said in a steely voice.

Angel pouted and stamped her foot, but let herself be dragged down a hallway and dumped back into her crate by the woman. She still wished her crate was bigger, but at least they were giving her a chance to rest. She glanced through the bars and saw that one of the ugly boys from the other crate was missing, the horror-movie kid with too many fingers. Only the fish boy remained.

Suddenly, a question that had been bouncing around her mind since Fang mentioned it last summer popped back into her head. "Wait!" she shouted urgently at the lady whitecoat. "Can I ask you something?"

The woman sighed, clearly wanting to get on with her life. "Fine, but I hope it's important."

"It's important to me," Angel said.

"Oh, brother," the whitecoat muttered, rolling her eyes.

Angel squeezed her eyes shut and thought about the best way to phrase the question without sounding too silly. She eventually decided that she didn't care about sounding silly, and asked with total seriousness, "Is the moon made out of cream cheese?"

If the whitecoat had been drinking at the moment, she would have done a spit-take. "_Excuse_ me?"

"Is the moon made of cream cheese?" Angel repeated, irritated.

The whitecoat smiled, amused by the age-old inquiry that many little children had. "No, no, the moon isn't made of cream cheese," she said. "The moon isn't made of cheese at all."

Angel's mouth fell open, and she clearly felt betrayed. "But last summer, Fang told me it was made of cream cheese!" she protested. She pouted and crossed her arms once again. "What a liar! I told him it was made of mozzarella cheese, but he didn't listen!"

"Fang?" the whitecoat said, but she soon remembered the experiment whose front tooth had been enlarged to make up for its intelligence, which had accidentally been reduced. "Oh, you mean Subject One Million and Forty Two. The stupid one."

"Yeah, he's stupid, all right!" Angel said, leaning against the back of her crate. She heard the whitecoat's sensible shoes clap against the linoleum, indicating that the woman had left. In the next cage, the fish boy looked at her, hardly able to hide his superior smirk.

_The moon is made of minerals such as sulfur, nickel, and olivine, you imbecile_, he thought.

"Oh, shut up," Angel spat, turning her back to him. "You don't even know what you're talking about."


	6. Let's Get Ella

It was no secret to the rest of the flock—with the obvious exceptions of Fang and Angel—that Iggy was one of the smartest kids in the group. He always said that if you were going into the killing business, you had to have serious smarts. You had to outthink your enemy, get inside their heads, figure out what they'd do and how you could outdo it. With all that intelligence, it was no wonder he could figure out how to make a fart bomb.

"How many more of these do I have to make?" the Gasman asked, farting away as he sat on an open Tupperware container that housed a ball made of wires. "The smell is actually starting to bug me."

"Just this last one," said Iggy. His voice was nasal thanks to one of Nudge's hair clips blocking his ability to smell. "You made the three other ones. Suck it up."

Gazzy groaned and made a constipated-looking expression as he continued to emit the noxious gas. A couple of minutes later, Iggy's timer went off and the younger boy stood up quickly, plugging his nose. "Couldn't we have just used Coke and Mentos? That's pretty explosive," he said.

"We don't have Mentos," Iggy said matter-of-factly. "And Fang poured the last of the Coke down the toilet last week."

Gazzy paused. "Oh, yeah. Why did he do that, anyway?"

Iggy shrugged. "You can never tell with idiots."

"Okay," Gazzy said, changing the subject. "We need, like, four timing devices—" He trailed off and watched as Iggy placed his timer inside the most recent fart bomb. "_Three_—" He was cut off again when Iggy took off his watch and put it inside another fart bomb. "_Two_, then." Gazzy waited to see if his friend would pull out another watch.

"Max and Nudge have watches. They forgot to bring them on the Quest for the Dirtbag," Iggy informed him. "Get them, would you?"

"Sure."

"Oh, and when you get Max's watch, could you get her can of Lysol? Death by fart is really embarrassing."

* * *

The sound of a gunshot broke through the silence.

I let out an involuntary shriek and sat up, looking around for the source of the noise. Not surprisingly, Nudge stood over me with an amused expression, absently picking a nail. I heard Fang snoring loudly next to me. He was definitely still asleep. My eyes roamed around the room, trying to remember where I was. A kitchen, a kitchen in a cabin. A really ugly, bright yellow cabin.

"Morning," Nudge said, not looking away from her nail.

"Morning," I said. "What time is it?"

Nudge checked her wrist, only to realize she'd left her watch behind. She shrugged, which answered my question and showed that she didn't care much about her watch. I got to my feet and opened the blinds of the nearest window, seeing sunlight streaming in. There weren't any Sharpies or That Place officials, which was good.

Wait. _SUNLIGHT?_

"Oh, God!" I screamed, whirling around to look at Nudge. "It's the next morning already!"

She only chuckled. "You should see your face."

_"Not helping," _I snapped. I ran over to Fang and kicked him awake, while Nudge watched with slight interest. "C'mon, Fang, get up!" I yelled in his ear, but all he did was turn over and snore in my face, completely undisturbed. "Fang, a Canadian just ran by the window!" Still no answer. I sighed. "Fang, don't look now, but Chuck Norris has a security camera in here, and it's pointed at—"

"FORCE FIELDS!" Fang yelped, bolting upright and causing a couple of empty cans to fall on the floor. He looked around fearfully, trying to bite his nails, but instead stabbing his fingers with his infamous tooth. "Max, I heard a magic voice say that Chuck Norris is watching me. What if he tries to kill us? 'Cause nothing can kill Chuck Norris!"

"He won't hurt you," I said soothingly, patting his head. "Just get your stuff. We have to leave."

"How come?" asked Fang.

I poked him in the forehead. "Uh, because we haven't saved Angel yet! Duh!"

Fang's mouth fell open, and his entire body started shaking violently. He snapped his black-and-pink wings out and flew right through the ceiling without grabbing anything. Not even bothering to call down to Nudge and I, he zoomed off into the horizon as quickly as possible.

"Thank God," muttered Nudge, going to a cabinet and getting a can of ravioli. "Breakfast?"

"No! We can't just let Fang roam around on his own!" I said. "He'll get himself killed!"

That was the wrong thing to say if you wanted Nudge to care about what happened to Fang. She just shrugged. I gritted my teeth and snatched her gun out of her pocket, looking ready to tear the thing into two pieces if I had to.

"Hey!"

"We go get Fang, or I'm breaking this," I threatened.

Nudge stared at me right in the eye with her emotionless gaze, which meant she was trying to keep her anger under control. "You wouldn't."

"I would," I said in a low voice. "It's time you started listening to me."

She gazed at me a few minutes longer, probably going over her options in her mind, then took the gun back and flew out through the Fang-shaped hole in the ceiling. I smiled to myself and followed her out, briefly hoping that the people who owned this place wouldn't mind a hole in the roof.

We flew for about ten miles, calling Fang's name, listening for the sound of his unmistakable voice, searching for a black wing with a hint of pink. Nudge kept trying to get me to abandon our mini mission and go back to the cabin, but I wouldn't budge. Finally we found him stuck in a tree, wrapped in a tangle of leaves and branches.

"Help," he said weakly.

Nudge giggled hysterically. I ignored her and helped him out, asking, "What'd you do?"

"I was looking for Angel and stuff, and then I saw a squirrel, and he threw a nut at my face, so I followed him to get revenge," Fang explained. "Except I never found him. What a jerk!"

"That squirrel sounds like a real scumbag," I agreed. "But now it's Angel time. You can get your revenge on nature later."

Fang's face lit up. "Hey, that sounds like a song! Like…STOP! Angel time!" Suddenly, he covered his mouth. "Oh, no! Now I'm gonna get sued!"

I grabbed his hand and pulled him up as I flew off, Nudge staying close to us and keeping her handgun safely in her pocket in case someone tried to take it again. As Fang chattered on about whether or not he was going to get sued, I thought about how stupid we'd been. We had made a commitment to rescue Angel, and then we'd gone and fallen asleep in a cabin—_someone else's _cabin, no less. Half of Angel's body had probably been dissected by whitecoats by now.

"Can you believe we just forgot about her?" I shouted to Nudge.

"Yeah," Nudge called back.

"Doesn't it bug you?"

"No."

Well, _that_ figures.

"You know what bugs me?" Fang asked, cutting himself off mid-rant. "The Mytecs!"

"The _what?_" I asked, staring at him.

"The Mytecs," said Fang. "You know, the old guys who said that in 3012, zombies would rule the world? They bug me a whole lot. So how are we gonna get Angel back? Are we gonna blow That Place up? Can we flame it with nuclear flamethrowers?"

"Nuclear flamethrowers?" Nudge said, looking interested.

"I know what we could do!" Fang went on. "We could blow That Place up with a forklift! Like, we just run into it, and then BOOM! It's gone!"

"Actually, I have a plan," I broke in.

"Does it involve nuclear flamethrowers?" Fang asked. "Or French fries? I like French fries. Are there such things as Canadian fries or Russian fries, do you think? How 'bout Mexican fries? With lots of barbecue sauce!"

"No!" I said firmly. "No flamethrowers, and no French fries, and definitely nothing nuclear. Do you want radiation poisoning?"

"Yes!" Fang said, pure excitement showing in his brown eyes.

I groaned, then ignored Fang and glanced downward, startled by how small everything looked down below. I never realized how far up we'd gotten. Almost no other birds flew up here, except maybe a falcon or hawk or something. For miles there was nothing but trees and sky up here, but down there, cars drove by and people went about their daily business. What was a regular day like in a normal human kid's life like? I bet they didn't live with idiots, spoiled brats, or trigger-happy serial killer wannabes. God, I'm jealous.

"Hey, Max, what do you think Gazzy and Iggy are doing?" Fang babbled. "You don't think Iggy's trying to kill him, do you? 'Cause that's just mean. But Iggy's mean, so he likes stuff like that."

"Iggy likes Gazzy," I said, still staring down at the things and people we were passing by. "He's not going to kill him. And Iggy's not mean. Just…bitter."

"Who bit him?" Fang asked.

"Never mind," I replied. Down on the ground, a group of kids appeared in my line of vision, seeming to be walking, probably to school or someplace. I didn't think much of it at first, but then upon closer examination, I realized a bunch of bigger kids were surrounding a smaller kid. The bigger kids were boys, and the small one was a girl. Call me crazy, but the boys looked like total creeps.

Something poked my wing. I jumped a little and turned to see Nudge holding her gun out to me. "Drastic measures."

"No," I said, pushing the gun away. "Keep it. What if Sharpies attack?"

"Fine," she said, putting it away, looking disappointed.

"What's wrong, you guys?" Fang asked.

"I need to go save somebody," I said. "It won't take long. Meet me at the west-eastern point of Lake Mstjke."

"Oh, my gosh," Fang breathed. "You're gonna save someone? Max, you're like a superhero! You should have your own theme song!" Suddenly, he started slapping his cheeks with his hands, making some kind of sound that was apparently supposed to be my theme song.

"Thanks," I said, and flew off as fast as I could. Unfortunately, a huge group of flies attacked my face and distracted me. I swatted at them and didn't think to keep flapping my wings, so I fell back to earth rather unceremoniously, doing a face plant in the dirt. When I got up from where I'd landed, there was an imprint where my face had been. I saw that I was behind a deserted warehouse that was just as beat-up as the Z-shaped house. I pulled my wings in and close to me as I could, hoping that I looked somewhat normal.

I rounded the corner of the warehouse and saw three guys, probably sixteen years old. The girl they were surrounding looked about twelve, and she had the last expression on her face anyone in her position would have. She looked like she was about to burst out laughing.

"I told you not to tell anybody about what we were doing with Ortiz," spat the lead creep. "It wasn't any of your business."

The girl giggled, totally unafraid. "That was so funny, though," she said. "You guys looked so goofy! You were all running around wearing pink dresses, and you were taking turns putting lipstick and mascara and stuff on each other, and Dwayne, you were singing 'I Feel Pretty'—you're a good singer!"

"You really think so?" Dwayne asked hopefully. The first kid punched him in the arm, and he quickly said, "Uh, you will die, um, and stuff."

"Dude, that was weak," said the third guy.

"She distracted me! I couldn't think!" Dwayne whined.

I chuckled, covering my mouth, until I saw that the first guy was holding a gun, decidedly not a Nerf gun like the kind the Sharpies used. I was talking about a _real _gun, like Iggy and Nudge used. Specifically, a shotgun. Jeez, I feel bad for that guy's parents.

The gun wielder glared at Dwayne and the other kid to shut them up, then looked back at the girl. "As I was saying, it was none of your freakin' business. Yeah, it was funny, but that doesn't give you the right to tell your whole school about it. And then, just to make things worse, you taped it and put it on YouTube!"

"Why's that so bad, José?" the girl asked. "I wanted to cherish it forever and ever!"

I couldn't help but think that sounded like something Fang would say.

"Nobody cares about what _you_ want, Ella," snapped José. "And after today, nobody ever will."

"But you just said they already didn't," said Ella. "You're weird."

José glared at her with complete hatred and cocked his shotgun. I stepped out from my hiding spot and picked up a rock, knowing it was time to act. "Hey!" I yelled, hurling the rock at José's head. "You might want to leave her alone."

All four of them stared at me. Dwayne, Ella, and the third boy looked surprised. José just looked mad. "Shut up," he said. "_You _might want to get out of here. Can't I shoot this little idiot in peace?"

"I don't think so," I said, stepping forward. "I live with two kids who play with guns. Being around a third one isn't going to fly." Heh. See what I did there?

José pointed his shotgun between my eyes. "Okay, I can kill two idiots with one stone."

"Weak," muttered the third kid.

"Shut up, Jake!" José said. Dwayne and Ella laughed. He glared at them and Dwayne shut up, but not Ella. José ignored her and stared at me. "You're dead first, but I've got to make sure of something." He turned to his friends. "Guys, you never saw this happen, got it?"

"But they're seeing it right now," Ella pointed out.

"This is boring," said Jake. "José, get yourself in trouble. C'mon, Dwayne, let's get food or something."

Dwayne nodded in agreement, and the two boys walked away. José stared in disbelief. "Dwayne! Jake! Get back here! We're still friends, right? C'mon, it's just two people! It's not like I'm on a crime spree or something!" he yelled after them.

"Run," I said to Ella out of the corner of my mouth. She spun around and quickly scurried out of sight.

"Fine! Be that way!" José was still yelling at his friends. "Our freakin' friendship is _over! _I won't even talk to you guys in the next life!"

It was probably the only opportunity I'd get to show off my lack of fighting skills, so I raced up to him and kicked him in the groin as hard as I could. I kid you not, he let out the girliest, most high-pitched opera screech I'd ever heard in my life. I knocked him over with a kick to the back, probably breaking something. He grabbed the shotgun and tried to shoot me, but all I heard was a _click_. Which meant the gun wasn't even loaded.

José's eyes widened. "Those idiots!" he screamed. "I bet they knew about this!"

"Aw, shut up," I said, grabbing the gun and whacking him hard in the face with it. A huge bloody mark appeared on his face, but I showed no mercy. I kept hitting him over and over and finally kicked him in the face. After that, he was out for the count.

I tossed the shotgun into some bushes and walked off, feeling great about myself, but that didn't last long. A gunshot sounded in the distance, and in an instant I felt a pain in my shoulder so horrible that I keeled over. Oh, God, did those guys have more friends? Was there an incredibly observant hunter running around who had noticed my wings and thought I was a huge bird? Had Ella turned on me? And why did I have to pee so badly? What did I drink back at that cabin, anyway?

"Did I get her?" asked someone who sounded like that Dwayne kid.

"Yeah, I think so," said someone else who sounded like that Jake kid. "Let's go before someone sees us."

There was a rustle of bushes, and they were gone. I gritted my teeth. I thought they had been good but misguided kids who were nice enough to let Ella and I go unharmed, but it just goes to show you that you never really know someone. I ran away the best I could, clutching my hurt shoulder, but I instantly tripped over a rock and fell down a steep slope, hitting bushes, vines, and more rocks. When I came to a stop, I got up and moved along again, even though I hurt all over, I could feel blood seeping out of my shoulder, and Nudge, Fang, and Angel were probably worried sick about me. Well, I could picture Fang and Nudge being worried. Angel would probably just be angry. I was used to that.

Note to self: next time Nudge offers you her gun, _take it._


	7. You And Me Against The World

"Uh, Nudge? Hey, Nudge, can I talk to you for a sec?" If it was possible to do a potty dance in mid-air, Fang was doing it, complete with a facial expression that made him look extremely constipated. "I really need to go pee! Will you let me pee?"

Nudge shrugged, which Fang took as a yes. He flew off to relieve himself in the nearest tree, scaring a few birds out of their home. When he came back, he smiled radiantly. "Okay, I'm good!" he chirped. "Now we sit here and wait for Max!" Suddenly, his smile faltered a little. "She's coming back, right? Is she gonna bring chocolate back for us?"

"Yeah," Nudge said absently. She scouted the area for a place to land.

"Are you _sure?"_ Fang asked. "'Cause I just realized that if she doesn't come back, we're probably gonna have to live here for the rest of forever. Actually, I like that plan! It's pretty here. And you know what else I just realized? Maybe when we grow up and we're still living here, we can get married and have babies! What do you think?"

The answer was a bullet to the face. He was protected by his automatic healing abilities, courtesy of the scientists from That Place, but he keeled over (still in the air, surprisingly) and started moaning in pain anyway. Nudge sent him a quick, sharp glare and shuddered. She did _not _need marriage on her mind right now. Luckily, her sharp eyes spotted a cave not too far away, and she dragged Fang along with her as she flew to their new hideout, ignoring his whining. The cave went maybe seventy feet in and was about two hundred feet wide—well, that was just Nudge's guess, anyway. At least it looked like they would be safe there. She landed gracefully and unceremoniously dropped Fang on the ground.

"Nudge?" he said again, poking her shoulder. "Does this place have food? 'Cause—"

She took of one of her shoes and threw it over his head. He scrambled to catch it, finally picking it up and biting huge chunks out of it. She gave a satisfied smile. If there was one good thing about Fang, it was his lack of pickiness with food. Unfortunately, he had a habit of talking while he ate.

"So where's Max?" he asked, spitting out bits of shoe as he spoke. "I mean, I think she went to go save somebody, 'cause I made the superhero song noise for her, but who'd she go save?"

"Some girl," Nudge answered. She sat down a safe distance from him and crossed her legs, staring into the distance.

"Like, a little girl?" Fang asked. "Like—" He gasped. "LIKE ANGEL!" He swallowed the last bit of shoe and spread his wings. Nudge threw her gun at him, knocking him to the floor again.

"Hold on!" she hissed. "We have to stay _here_." She crawled closer to him and snatched the gun up, putting it back in her pocket. Fang gave a little squeak of fear and scooted away from her. She shrugged and gazed off into nowhere again. A few minutes later, without warning, he shrieked girlishly and hid behind her, clutching her shoulders and shaking like a leaf.

"What now?" Nudge said irritably, trying to shake him off to no avail.

"What's _that?"_ Fang asked, pointing a shaky finger at something in front of them.

For the first time, Nudge noticed a bunch of large nests, each about two feet across. Most of them housed little fledglings, and the fledglings had larger parents that were staring at her and Fang intently, like they were trying to decide whether or not the two were a threat.

"I'm scared," Fang whimpered.

"They're hawks," Nudge said. "Stay still."

Fang narrowed his eyes and tilted his head at the birds. "They don't look like dogs."

"Whatever," said Nudge. "Just stay still." She modeled this for him by freezing in position, not daring to make even the smallest of twitches. He shrugged and froze in position as well, closing his eyes. Very slowly, she extended one of her wings, and all the hawk heads turned around to look. One of them actually approached her, its eyes boring into her skull as though it were trying to burn a hole in it. Her eyes flickered down to her pocket, hoping that the birds couldn't see her gun.

The hawk seemed to lose interest in her and went over to Fang, who was visibly shaking. He cocked an eye open, staring at the hawk nervously, silently pleading to be left alone. Suddenly, the hawk vomited on his head, then went back over to the other hawks and started to feed its babies.

"Awesome!" Fang said, still frozen in place. "He gave me a present! I can't wait to tell Angel! I bet she'd get jealous and throw a huge fit about not getting presents from these guys, 'cause that's how she is, you know? Can we leave now and go save Angel or something? Or we can get a snack first. And when's Max coming back? Oh my gosh! Maybe these guys can tell us where Angel and Max are!"

At the sound of this, all the hawks abruptly rose from their nests and flew away. They probably didn't want to associate with Fang. Nudge didn't blame them.

"Hey, come back!" he yelled after them, spreading his wings and taking off. The fledglings immediately started to squeak in fear, and one of the bigger hawks flew over to Fang and squawked at him. At first Fang just giggled, but it soon became clear to him that his presence wasn't appreciated. A few more adult hawks flew over to him and squawked loudly, then started pecking him in the head. Fang's eyes widened, and he flew back to the cave, settling next to Nudge and rocking back and forth.

"Birds," he muttered. "Big. Scary. Birds."

"They're not that bad," Nudge said.

"They tried to kill me with their teeth!" Fang said.

Nudge shrugged. "Next time, just use _your _teeth," she told him, then curled up on the ground and decided now would be a good time for a nap.

"Oh my God!" Fang screamed happily, the scary hawks temporarily gone from his mind. "You said six words!"

Since she wasn't going to answer him, he fell backwards and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

If I ever had to make a list of the top ten worst days I'd ever had, today would definitely be number one. Today was even worse than the time Fang got sick and used my cereal bowl as an emergency barf bag. My shoulder was still bleeding and still felt horrible, and I don't know what compels people to keep touching their injuries, but I just couldn't stop doing it. Even worse, I hadn't thought to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. Am I stupid or what?

I hadn't run into the guys with the guns, thank God, but that did nothing to help my mood. It was getting late, I was hurt, a mouthy little kid was waiting for me to rescue her, I had left an idiot and a gun-toting eleven-year-old to their own devices, and now it was raining. Oh, and I just peed my pants. Yeah, this couldn't get any better. Thanks a lot, world. I continued on, though, wiping water out of my eyes and slogging my way through the wetness.

Not too long after, I saw lights up ahead. Was someone in a car? Who'd want to drive in this weather? Still, I started to run as fast as I could, and I didn't stop until I hit my face on something solid. I stepped back, clutching my now-sore face and letting out a scream, frustrated at my own stupidity. I felt someone's eyes on me, and turned to face a girl with dark hair and brown eyes looking at me curiously. Instantly, I recognized her as Ella, the girl I'd helped. This must be her house.

"Um," I started. "Hi. I know it looks like I'm following you, but I'm really not. I got away from those creepy guys, and—"

"Hey!" Ella interrupted. "You're that girl from before, right? The girl who stood up to José and them? Thanks for doing that. You're really cool! Oh, and I was thinking about some of the stuff you said, and I just wanted to know, do you really live with kids who play with guns? That's weird."

She talked so fast it took me a while to process what she was saying. I caught the last part, though. "Yeah, I do. I'm pretty sure they mean well, but they just like the guns. I think it makes them feel strong or something." That was a lie, of course, but I wasn't about to tell her my life story. And to tell you the truth, I'm actually _not_ sure that Iggy and Nudge mean well.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow move at Ella's feet. She giggled, leaned down, and picked the shadow up, at which point I realized it was a fat dog. "This is Magnolia," Ella said. "I have no idea what kind of dog she is, and I don't know how old she is. But I made her fat because I used to feed her way too much when I was little. Well, that's what my mom said, anyway. By the way, I only live with my mom. My dad died when I was, like, five, and I don't remember why. But I'm pretty sure the hair dryer killed him, because it's old and evil and never works. What's your family like?"

We were getting into a pretty uncomfortable topic. I had to make something up. "I don't have a family. They went to, uh, Switzerland. To be apple farmers. That's where they grow magical blue apples."

"Magical blue apples, huh?" Ella repeated, sounding deep in thought. "What do they do?"

"They help you go to the bathroom," I said quickly.

"So if you're constipated, you just eat a blue apple, and it helps?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I guess. My family was way superstitious, so who knows?"

"Jeez, and I thought the neighbors were creepy," said Ella, shuddering. "So why did you follow me? Wait, you didn't follow me. That's what you were saying. So, why did you not-follow me? Did my mom tell you about the orange juice? Nobody drinks it. We're thinking of selling it in a garage sale for free."

I blinked in confusion. "Uh, no. I didn't hear anything about orange juice. I came here because I need help."

"Mental help?" she asked. "Are you losing your mind?"

"No, I mean like _medical_ help," I said. "One of the creepy guys shot me back there."

Ella's eyes got big and she clapped a hand to her face. "Oh my God! Why didn't you just say so? C'mon, we need to get you some help!" With no warning, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the house, but both of us tripped over Magnolia, who trotted inside without a care in the world. This didn't faze Ella, who got up, brushed herself off, and literally dragged me through the house. "Mom! Mom! Ezra over here needs help!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

_"Ezra?"_ I said, glancing at her in disbelief. "My name is _Max!" _

"Sorry," said Ella. "Ezra's my name for people whose names I don't know."

I sighed inwardly. What did I get myself into this time?

* * *

"Well? How does it look?" Iggy asked.

Gazzy surveyed the giant pit they had dug earlier. The four fart bombs were at the very bottom of the pit, surrounded by large poison stakes. Iggy had poured an entire beer bottle (he'd attacked a hiker and stolen it) and half a can of gasoline down there, and then Gazzy had fire-farted on everything for a finishing touch. The Gasman smiled, satisfied. "Looks good to me, Ig," he said. "There's no way a Sharpie could survive this."

"That's what I want to hear," Iggy said with a grin of his own. He was actually glad that Max wasn't with them. She would complain that it was overkill. As far as he was concerned, overkill didn't exist. Anything that would get rid of the Sharpies sounded good.

"So, like, do you have a button or something that'll set it all off?" Gazzy asked.

Iggy laughed. "I _always _have a button or something." He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small black square with a red button on it. "This controls the fart bombs. Then the fart smell and the fire will combine and react with the gasoline and the beer, and BOOM! There'll be an explosion for the ages!"

Gazzy blinked, trying to think it over in his head. "Wait, how does that even work?"

Iggy's grin disappeared, becoming a somewhat distressed, embarrassed frown. He leaned down and whispered, "Okay, I don't really know. I'm just hoping something cool will happen."

"Yeah, me too," Gazzy agreed. "But if the fire doesn't start, they'll probably die from the smell. Or the stakes."

Iggy nodded. "Yeah, I bet—" Suddenly, his face became expressionless and he stood perfectly still, drawing himself up to his full height. Gazzy stared at him quizzically, then heard the sound of squealing tires a few minutes later and knew that Iggy had heard it, too. The boys flew up to a high tree and carefully hid themselves in the branches. Gazzy peeked from behind some leaves.

"What do you see?" Iggy asked. "Dylan's not back for revenge, is he? I thought he was dead! And he's definitely not getting his food back!"

"Who the heck is Dylan?" Gazzy hissed.

Iggy awkwardly patted the younger mutant's head. "I'll tell you when you're older. Let's watch the show." Then he realized what he'd said. "I mean, you watch the show. I want details."

From his spot on the tree branch, Gazzy could see a giant black Hummer roaring down the road. Inside the car, he could see Sharpies drinking what looked like beer and heard them whooping and hollering. A window rolled down and the whole area was filled with loud music. The driver was fast asleep.

"They're even dumber than I thought," Iggy snickered.

"Yeah, I know," Gazzy laughed. "Okay, they're almost to the pit. Cross your fingers!"

Iggy did that, but he also crossed his toes, feet, arms, legs, wings, and he would've crossed his eyes if he had any.

Then it happened.

One minute, the Sharpies were laughing it up and driving recklessly, and the next minute they were screaming like little girls as the Hummer tipped over into the pit. Gazzy relayed the scene to Iggy, who quickly pushed his little red button, causing the fart bombs to detonate. The Sharpies who hadn't been impaled by the poison stakes scrambled out of the car, some staggering around drunkenly, some dropping to the ground. Unfortunately for them, as soon as they were out of the car, they caught fire and ran around shrieking. Some of them fell down and did stop, drop, and roll.

Right on top of the gasoline and beer.

Just as Iggy had predicted, the gas, beer, and fire mixed together and created a gigantic explosion. Car parts, little bits of Sharpie, and chunks of the poison stakes flew everywhere. Some nearby trees caught on fire. It was even more wonderful than the boys could have hoped for.

"Whoa," Gazzy said. "It's…it's _amazing_, Iggy. The trees are on fire, the Sharpies and the Hummer blew up, and little pieces of stuff are all over the place!"

Iggy's sockets somehow filled up with tears of joy. "Beautiful," he whispered. "Just beautiful."

Gazzy saw something moving beneath a huge pile of wreckage in the pit. "Wait, there's something down there!"

A figure rose out of the pile, shaking pieces of his comrades off his body and tossing aside bits of the Hummer. The Sharpie, the driver that had been asleep during the whole thing, was now awake and moving around. His whiskers twitched as he glanced at the debris. "Wow," he said, astonished. "I'm alive." A smile spread across his catlike face, and he began to dance around in a manner that reminded Gazzy of Fang. "I'm alive! I'm alive!"

Iggy pulled out his sniper rifle, aimed, and shot the survivor. The cat-man's body fell over with a thud. Iggy sighed contentedly, then put his gun away and leaned back against the tree. "I'm glad that's over with." He grinned at Gazzy. "We kicked some serious butt, didn't we?"

Gazzy gulped and pointed at the sky. "Uhh…"

A helicopter adorned with crude graffiti, goofy drawings, and various colors flew over to the scene faster than they could blink. It was piloted by a Sharpie who was definitely wide awake, and a second, wild-eyed Sharpie leaned out the window, shooting at trees with a machine gun.

"That's a chopper, isn't it?" Iggy asked.

"Yep," Gazzy said.

"What do you think we should do?"

"Um, get the heck out of here?"

Iggy nodded, absently fingering his sniper rifle. "Good call."

* * *

Reilly hit his triangle again. Angel wanted to take the little instrument and beat him over the head with it, but she was tired and a pair of rough hands were pushing her forward. She tried to run, but she tripped and fell. She pushed herself up with one arm and tried to crawl through the maze, but it was no use. She fell facedown and promptly went to sleep.

"Oh, come on," a whitecoat groaned. The others shrugged and scribbled down some notes. They knew what would happen if they tried to make her do anything. The whiny whitecoat tried to shock her, but she wouldn't budge. He sighed and stomped off.

Angel slept for about seven hours, but when she woke up she was still unhappy. "Hey!" she shouted at a whitecoat who was still taking notes. "I got my sleep, so now where's my food? And why am I still in this dumb maze?"

The note-taker didn't answer. "Maybe we should let him deal with her," she said to one of her colleagues. "He lived with those kids for months. He should know how to handle this one."

"Are you kidding? He hates her," the other whitecoat said. "She's one of the main reasons he left them. He told me himself."

Angel didn't know what they were talking about. It didn't matter anyway. It probably had nothing to do with her, and if it wasn't about her, it wasn't worth listening to.

The two whitecoats said some more boring things before the note-taker turned to her and gave her a huge fake smile. "Okay, dear, are you ready to run the maze again?"

"Ew, no!" Angel snapped. "This is so stupid. I don't even know what it's supposed to do."

"Oh, well, that's too bad," said the note-taker, her tone suspiciously sweet. She nodded at Reilly, who whacked his triangle. Someone zapped Angel, making her yelp, and she ran the maze again. Well, she didn't run so much as jump around, but at least she was doing something. She jumped so far that she actually fell out of the maze and onto the cool floor. It was a relief from the hot wires and sharp zaps. The whitecoats turned away from her and chattered amongst themselves.

"She seems to be stressed out," said one.

"I say we give her a break," said another.

"_I _say we give _ourselves _a break."

"Yeah."

"We should all take naps."

"I want some McDonald's."

"I'll buy everyone slushies."

"We should get him in here first."

She would never admit it in a million years, but Angel was actually listening to them now, and she kind of agreed with some of the stuff they were saying. She really wanted some food from McDonald's. And a slushie. She began to dream of blue raspberry slushies and hot fries with ketchup until a man's voice pierced the air.

"All right, all right, I know you're all tired, so go take a break. I'll take it from here." The whitecoats all cheered and ran out of the room. Angel pushed herself up off the ground and into a sitting position. Her eyes caught sight of an older whitecoat who wore glasses. She didn't know why, but he looked kind of familiar.

Jeb Batchelder stared at her in horror, his eyes bugging out of his head and his jaw dropping almost to the floor. "No," he muttered. "No. No! It can't be!" He covered his face with his hands, sank to his knees and broke down crying. "_Angel! _Of all the escaped mutants to bring back, it had to be _Angel! _Why not Max? Why not Gazzy? Why not someone _normal? _WHY, GOD, WHY?"

Angel finally put two and two together. "Hey, traitor guy! Get me a slushie!"

* * *

Author's Note: _I'm back on the face of the earth! You guys didn't really think I'd abandoned this story, did you?_


End file.
